


Everything

by Tumble Down (tumbledown)



Series: If You Need Me I'll Be There [1]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 03:18:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4084654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tumbledown/pseuds/Tumble%20Down
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean takes care of Roman after his three matches on RAW.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in five years or more and this hasn't been beta-read, so there's likely mistakes. Feel free to point them out! And I would love critique and comments, so if let me know what you think if you can. You can also find me at peacelovevinyl.tumblr.com if you would like to comment there. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy.
> 
> EDIT: Did a quick reread and changed some things.

Roman staggered to the bed while Dean shut the hotel room door behind them and flipped on a lamp. He sat down gratefully, trying not to breathe too deeply. Three matches, three damn matches. It was insane, he was insane, and yet he knew he didn't regret it and would do it again in heartbeat. 

Dean had practically half-dragged him out of the arena and into his car to drive him back to the hotel. They'd left his gear behind, but someone would grab it for him. He and Dean weren't the only ones fed up with the Authority. They had a lot of support, if only silently and out of the line of fire. He couldn't blame them. If it wasn't for Seth he probably wouldn't be in this position, though Dean still probably would be. Dean had never met an authority figure he didn't fight with at some point.

“Need help?” Speaking of the devil, Dean was gesturing towards his vest.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Taking the vest off was both a blessing and a curse. He lost its support for his ribs, which now ached even more, but at least he could breathe a little easier. It was a trade he'd take. Dean tossed it off to the side toward the chair where the title laid. It was a bit careless, so it thumped against the front of the seat and then fell to the floor. Normally Roman would have fussed, but he wasn't finding it in him to care right now. Dean stood there, staring at him, expression muddled with something. Roman raised an eyebrow at him, and in response Dean shook his head slightly and headed towards the bathroom.

“I'm drawing you a bath,” he declared over his shoulder, disappearing through the doorway.

“What?” Roman said, untying his boots and kicking them off along with his socks. “A bath? Really?”

“Well you don't exactly smell like roses after one match, but three? You reek, man,” Dean shouted back as Roman heard the tap start.

“I reek?” he repeated back, half in disbelief, and stood up as slowly as he could. “Are you serious right now?”

“Yeah, I'm serious. And you can soak a bit while you're in there.”

Roman started towards the bathroom, then paused. Ah, now he got it. He shook his head and laughed to himself. Dean could show affection quite openly when he wasn't thinking about it, but when he did, he then got all sideways and a bit indirect.. He wasn't going to outright tell Roman he was concerned, not like Roman would do if it was Dean in his place. It was fine with Roman, because it was real and you knew it, though sometimes it left him confused. Dean needed his own dictionary, but Roman was learning his language, words and movements and tones all.

“Well,” Roman said as he walked into the bathroom to see Dean hunched over the tub, checking the temperature, “while that sounds great, I really just want to shower and go to bed.”

“Bath would be better.” Dean stood up, shaking the water off his hand.

“Probably, but it's also probable that I'll fall asleep in there. Are you going to haul my ass out and into bed? Because I'm thinking that's not going to feel so great,” he pointed out. A bath would likely be better in the long run, but he was just not up for the logistics tonight.

“Shit,” muttered Dean. “Fine.”

He pulled out the bath plug and switched the showerhead on, not waiting for the water to drain any. Impatience, thy name is Dean, thought Roman as Dean eased past him and out the door. Roman nudged it partly shut, figured good enough, and set about undressing without hurting his ribs too much.

The hot spray felt amazing when he got in, the water still partially pooled in the bottom giving him a bit of a foot soak. He just stood under the spray and let the water flow over him. He'd start washing in a minute, he just wanted to enjoy this for a moment.

He must've spaced out more than he thought, because the curtain being partially pulled back startled him. Dean stepped in behind him, unashamedly as naked as he, and reached past him to grab a washcloth and soap from the rack under the showerhead. Roman turned a bit and looked at him. He hadn't expected this. Sure, they had shared showers before, but those had a much different course of action in mind, and he was not up for that tonight in more ways than one. Dean ignored him, eyes focused on soaping up the washcloth. When he started to gently scrub Roman's back, Roman mentally shrugged and went with it. He was too tired to care and it felt too good to argue. Dean's hands were roughened with calluses, but the touch was as gentle as Roman had ever felt from him. It was weird, but damn did it feel good.

Roman thought he understood. He had done something for Dean, and Dean needed to do something for him in return. He didn't need to-- had never needed to, not with Roman-- but it was something that was just ingrained into the man. Roman hated to think why it was that way. Dean didn't owe him anything. He hadn't owed him an apology for hitting him with Dirty Deeds weeks ago, hadn't owed him for coming out to help when he needed, hadn't even really owed him the beer on Sunday night, champ or not. Well, Seth and the Authority had ended up paying for those, and although Roman knew he should feel bad about Dean temporarily borrowing Seth's company credit card and charging their drinks to him, he honestly didn't give a damn. Seth owed them that much and more.

The washcloth moved down his back, over his shoulders and arms, across hips and ass. A kiss he barely felt fluttered against the small of his back and he smiled, but said nothing as the cloth then moved down his legs. He turned around without being asked and Dean started on the front of his legs and his feet, before moving back up his body. His closed his eyes and relaxed into Dean's touch. There wasn't anything sexual about the movements, not really, and he was too tired to even think of doing anything like that right now, but, oh, he would make plans later. Dean didn't owe him this, but he damn well was going to get rewarded for it.

The cloth was as gentle as possible against his soft dick and sore ribs, easy and soothing circles. He let out a quiet groan, not from pain but from pleasure. Another whisper of a kiss against his shoulder told him Dean mistook it for the former, so he opened his eyes and gave him a small smile.

“Feels real good,” he murmured.

“Yeah?” Dean said. He put the washcloth back on the rack and soaped up his hands. “How about this?” Carefully he ran his hands over Roman's face, and Roman closed his eyes again. Those rough hands felt fantastic and he said so. Dean laughed and said, “Okay, lean back.” 

He leaned back into the spray, Dean's hands helping the water wash the soap away. He leaned forward again and shook his head, trying to get the water out of his ears and causing his wet hair to flip around.

“Yeah, alright, I'll get to that mane of yours now. Where's that fancy ass shampoo of yours?” Moving around him Dean found it sitting at the tub's corner and poured what look like a handful of shampoo into his hand.

“You love this mane-- hey, no, not that much-- Dean!”

Dean had slapped the whole glob of it onto the top of Roman's head and began working it into hair.

“Man, that is way too much,” Roman grumbled.

“Eh,” Dean said, shrugging. “Turn around.”

He turned around with a roll of his eyes and Dean really set to work. Roman tilted his head back to help him reach it all, closing his eyes again and forgetting the issue as those sweet, rough, beautiful hands massaged his scalp. He had a sensitive scalp, which had made Dean cackle like hyena and tease him about until he discovered just what exactly Roman had meant by sensitive. Hair pulling, petting, even just having fingers in his hair during sex turned him on like almost nothing else. He's half-convinced Dean fell for his hair and sensitive scalp before the rest of him, because he always was touching his hair now, even in public. He had before, sure, but he'd really ramped it up after their first time together and Dean grabbing his head and tugging on his hair had made him come so fast it had taken them both by surprise.

Dean pushed his shoulder a bit, putting him back under the spray. He blinked open and looked down at the trails of shampoo foam that ran over his body. He had been right, it was too much. Eh, Roman thought and as Dean had so elegantly said. He reached up with his own hands to help finish washing it out. It had felt so damn good, but he really was tired and sleep called to him. He started to turn the water off, then stopped.

“You need to shower?”

“Nah, I did earlier, I'm good.” He opened the curtain and got out before Roman had even turned the knobs. Impatient, he thought fondly.

He stepped out as was greeted with a towel thrown over his head. He sighed and began drying his hair, wincing when he stretched his arms a little too far. Dean had grabbed another towel and was quickly drying himself off. He dropped that one to the floor and grabbed a third towel, which he then began patting across Roman's abdomen.

Roman sighed at the towel on the floor, but said nothing. He had been after Dean since they started sharing a room to pick up his towels, and Dean had yet to remember. Or maybe he did and didn't care, which was the more likely scenario. It wasn't worth the inevitable argument tonight, not when Dean was being otherwise good and doing his best to make him feel better.

“Alright, now sit,” he said when he was finished, pointing to the toilet without looking. Roman sat, curious as to what he was up to now. “Stay,” he was further ordered, as Dean left the room.

“You know the 'hounds of justice' thing wasn't literal, right? I'm not a damn dog,” he half-heartedly growled.

“Nope, you're a gorgeous, majestic lion that hates going to bed with a wet mane,” Dean snarked back as he returned with Roman's hairdryer and plugged it in.

“I can do this myself,” Roman told him, because washing and drying his body was more than enough, Dean didn't need to do this, too. Plus Roman wasn't entirely sure when the last time Dean had used a hairdryer was and really wasn't looking forward to get his scalp singed, not after that wonderful massage.

“Shut up, I'm doing it. I'm no fancy hair guy, but I can use a fucking hairdryer.”

“Just don't burn me, man, I'm too tired to have a hot head.”

Dean snorted in response and turned the hairdryer on, thankfully not on the highest setting as Roman feared. Dean didn't keep it direct, kept it moving while working through Roman's hair with his fingers, making sure everything dried as evenly as possible. It was-- good, actually, like Dean actually knew what the hell he was doing. 

“Let me guess, you dated a hairdresser once?” Roman couldn't resist asking.

“No. Well, yeah, sort of, she was in beauty school or something, but she didn't teach me this.” Roman watched as Dean's face smoothed out, looking sad and dark briefly before it was all hidden again. A moment later he spoke. “My, uh, my mom did hair. Y'know, besides-- well, yeah, anyway, I'd help her out when I was little and she taught me some things. Others I just picked up watching her when she actually worked at this salon place. It wasn't a fancy place or anything, but she had regulars. They liked her work. Her, uh, hair work that is. The other work, too, maybe, I don't know.”

Roman wasn't entirely sure want to say that. Dean didn't talk about his past much, and almost never talked about his family. It was Seth that had more or less filled him in on that. Roman had wondered if Dean knew he knew, because he had never said a word to Dean about it. It seems like he did, and now Roman wondered if he was the only one Seth had told, or if Seth had spread it around. If he had, then Roman had yet another reason to punch Seth in the face.

“Okay, big guy, I think you're good enough to go, I'm not standing here half the night trying to get your Rapunzel hair to dry,” Dean said suddenly, turning the hairdryer off and unplugging it.

Roman ran his hand through his hair, and yeah, it was dry enough for him. “Great work, man. Looks like you got a job you can take up after you retire from this wrestling business.”

“Fuck that, I'm never retiring. They'll be rolling me out to the ring in a damn wheelchair to keep kicking ass.”

“If you're in a wheelchair, I doubt you'll still be kicking ass,” Roman pointed out as they left the bathroom and he began digging a pair of boxers out of his bag to sleep in. He then retrieved a bottle of water and some painkillers, because there would be no getting sleep without them.

“Shit, of course I will be,” Dean declared as he put on his underwear and pulled down the covers on the one bed. He climbed in and then scooted over and motioned Roman to join him. If he wasn't so tired he would've raised an eyebrow at that. They didn't usually share beds since Dean was a sprawler and sometimes kicked, while Roman was an admitted blanket hog.

“If so, you know where I'll be,” he said, mindful of his ribs as he climbed in and laid down on his back. Dean turned the lamp off and laid back down beside him, his head resting partially on Roman's shoulder.

“And where's that?” he murmured in the dark. Roman pushed him up off the bed and maneuvered his arm around Dean's back before pulling him back down to rest on his shoulder.

“In the wheelchair beside you, where else?” he said. 

It was quiet after that, only the sounds of their breathing and the faint noises of the city outside echoing in the room. The painkillers were slowly starting to kick in. He'd be drifting off soon with any luck.

“Ro?” He had barely heard Dean despite being so close.

“Yeah?”

“Why'd you... Why you'd do it? Why'd you even go without me? I should've been there with you the whole time.”

And there it was. He was a little surprised that Dean had actually asked, and even more surprised he wasn't pissed at Roman. He had thought about waking Dean to go to arena with him, but Dean was still asleep and Roman knew that Seth and the Authority would be out for blood. There was no way in hell he was going to let Dean lose his title like that the night after, and it was his title, DQ or not. Even more so Dean deserved that rematch to really get the title free and clear, and Roman was going to make damn sure he had it, which would work best if he wasn't there with the title sending the Authority into a rage by taunting them with it. And he would have, too, and had proven just that when he did show up. Roman just ended up leaving a note about letting Dean get a well-earned day off, and not to worry about anything. That said, he was damn happy when Dean did show up, and couldn't help but laugh at how screwed the Authority was getting and they weren't even fully aware of it.

“Ro?” Dean asked again when he hadn't replied.

“Because you deserve it and you know that, because you would have rubbed their faces in it and it wouldn't have ended well, and yeah, maybe you should have been there the whole time, but I wanted to do this for you and it was better that you stayed here. Though I am real fucking glad you showed up, I ain't gonna lie about that.”

He felt more than heard Dean huff in response to that, and knew he was probably getting an eye-roll as well.

“Yeah, well someone had to save your ass, thinking you take on two jackasses, a wackjob, and the Authority all in one night,” Dean growled.

“You're welcome,” Roman said lightly.

“Fuck you.”

“Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow, but not on the title again, I don't care how sexy it sounds, that chafed in places that have no business being chafed like that.” Roman wouldn't have been shocked if he still had the logo imprinted on his skin in places.

“No shit,” Dean agreed, “you know how I spent today after I woke and before I kicked ass? Cleaning dried jizz out of rhinestones. I had to go down to the damn shop and get Q-tips! Fucking Q-tips, Ro! I used like half the goddamn box because you come like a goddamn volcano and it was all over it!”

Roman laughed, then groaned as his he jarred his ribs. “Don't fucking make me laugh, man,” he said, slapping Dean on the arm.

“Yeah, well, it's your fault in the first place.”

“You were the one that wanted to fuck with belt on.”

“You agreed to it! You didn't say, 'Now, Dean, that's stupid idea and I'm going to tell you why in great detail and harp on it forever and blah, blah, blah.'"

“Uh-huh, nope, still your idea, your 'biggest fantasy' you said, and how could I say no to that? So I didn't,” Roman told him. Dean muttered something under his breath, but Roman just ignored him. “Just go to sleep, already.”

A beat, and then, “Ro?”

“Yeah?”

He felt Dean shift and pull away from him a bit. He could make out the shape of him in the dark, enough streetlight escaping around the curtains into the room. Dean reached out and touched his face, and then quickly leaned in and kissed him.

He would never get used to Dean's kisses, the uncommonly soft ones or the lascivious ones, the deep ones or the ones that left Roman breathless and lost. This one was another kind, the kind where it felt like Dean was trying to tell him so many things without actually saying anything. Words that Roman would love to hear, but also loved to taste, Dean's tongue in his mouth like some kind of wicked poetry.

A few more kisses, and then Dean settled back against Roman, head on his shoulder and arm across his chest. Roman's arm is wrapped back around Dean. The painkillers have kicked in and the adrenaline had left, and he was fast on his way to slumber when Dean spoke up yet again.

“Thank you,” he murmured so gently Roman almost wondered if he had begun dreaming.

“For what?” The words were barely more than an exhale. He was so close to sleep that when he heard Dean's reply he wasn't able to answer before he was over the edge into slumber.

“Everything.”


End file.
